


Save that for the Black and White

by ymaface



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Wildlings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:35:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymaface/pseuds/ymaface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa dances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save that for the Black and White

**Author's Note:**

> Sansa/Jon: North of the Wall

The drums bellowed, the lutes strummed, and the night was thick with soot and ash. The trees stood poised and thick around the clearing, shielding the festivities from the worst of the winds and snows. A hundred fires were lit to keep the darkness at bay and at the same time they plucked at the shadows of the wild dancers. The dance of the wildlings was quick and lively with bodies pressed far too close together. She was used to the courtly dancing of the Seven Kingdoms, not this. Woven rugs had been scattered across the worst of the mud but dirt seemed not to matter here...she could see it on the soles of their boots and on their tattered knees. The women were dressed in rough spun jerkins and clinging breeches so that when they moved she could see the stark outlines of their strong bodies.

The ale she drank was bitter and so thick that she could chew it. Beside her sat her protector, the snowy white direwolf of her kin, with his head resting in her lap. She would run her fingers through his rich fur and feel safe, comforted, in the midst of strange faces.

Opposite her in the clearing sat the Lord Commander. The black curls shaded his sombre face but his dark gaze burnt through; always watching, always _seeing_. She would stare back just as boldly, raising the horn of ale to her lips in silent defiance. She licked the moisture from her lips and saw his eyes flicker close. It was not enough.

It was hot now surrounded by all the fires. A hand was once again offered to dance and she took it, this time letting her cloak of glossy fur fall from her creamy shoulders. The steps were foreign and strange to her but she let the music move her body, entrusting her feet to the beats of the drums. Her wildling partner spun, guided, and finally held her perhaps too close. She allowed her hands to linger while her bright blue eyes teased.

As she danced the silver pins that contained her hair came loose and her hair spilled free from its tight bonds, falling loosely down her back in soft waves. In the firelight the red in her hair blossomed and _burned_. They stared at it with clouded eyes and murmured in the tongues of old, and yet she kept dancing. She raised her hands above her head, reaching up towards the stars, and spun – the unfamiliar faces around her blurring into one glorious halo of light. She felt free. She felt like she could _fly_.

Her wildling pulled her close and the illusion cracked. There was a hold on her arm. She tried to jerk free and then there was shouting. A flash of icy steel.

The Lord Commander was before her, guarding her with his body and sword. He used no words but the message was easy to read. _She was his_. He led her away from the fires and then pulled her so close that she could feel the rough shadow of his beard against her cheek. He was saying something, his cheeks flushed with anger, and his grip tight. She leant into the embrace and tucked herself away inside his thick black cloak. The cloak of the Night’s Watch. The cloak that would always forever separate them. He took hold of her hair, bunching it tightly in his fist, and brought it up to his lips, his brow now smooth and handsome. He said it was lucky to be kissed by fire. She kissed him and felt the heat melting her insides. She believed him. 


End file.
